


Power Naps

by Kazura



Category: Disgaea (Games)
Genre: Big Brother Instincts, Gen, Light-Hearted, Post-Canon, Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 15:52:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13344480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kazura/pseuds/Kazura
Summary: Laharl sleeps everywhere. Xenolith worries.





	Power Naps

The first time Xenolith sees it happen, sheer panic shoots through him, and he looks around, frantic, for help. Or for an explanation. Or both.

A passing Prinny attempts to soothe his worries with a shrug, along with the words, “That happens a lot, dood. He can sleep _anywhere_. Just don’t wake him up. He’d get cranky, dood. You wouldn’t want him cranky.”

Xenolith blinks, staring the Prinny down and silently daring it to say that again. The Prinny doesn’t, but it doesn’t stick around to say anything else either, leaving Xenolith dumbfounded as he watches Overlord Laharl sleep on a windowsill, high above one of the castle’s towers.

At a loss of what else to do, he stays, ensures that the Overlord doesn’t plunge to his untimely death below, until Etna finds both of them and yells at the little king to wake up, because it’s time for dinner, and Sicily made cake for dessert.

Weeks later, Xenolith comes across him sleeping on one of the benches outside the shops, and, despite previous warnings, the thought of waking him up, if only to ask him to please go to his own room if he were going to sleep, crosses his mind.

He chalks that one up to instinct, because he remembers the times when he’d come home to Etna, and he’d find her using her arms as a makeshift pillow on the tiny table he made for her. He’d carry her to her bed then, because a table is not a bed, and she’ll likely just wake up still feeling tired at the end of it.

He doesn’t do that here. Their king, no matter how small he is, would certainly throw a fit.

So Xenolith sits on one of the nearby benches and takes out a book he’s been meaning to read. His reading skills are improving, but he’s nowhere near as fast as he’d like. If he were going to practice, doing so while watching out for their small king feels like just as good an opportunity as any, seeing as there’s apparently no one else in that hallway who cares about the matter as much as he does.

He brings it up to Florence, the next time he drops by the infirmary for a checkup on his vitals.

“Oh,” Florence says, smiling as she stores her stethoscope away, “the Prince is a growing boy. He needs all the sleep he can get.”

“Isn’t…isn’t anyone…worried?” Because he is. Because he’d be worried if it were Etna.

“Oh, I was for a while, when I first got here. Same as you. I thought it was narcolepsy at first, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. He just really likes sleeping. But don’t worry. You’ll get used to it.”

In the two months he’s stayed at the castle, it’s the first time in a while that he feels doubt over something that Florence has said.

The third time is apparently the charm, and is just plain ridiculous in Xenolith’s book that he decides to throw all caution into the wind and call out to him with a soft, “Your Majesty.”

He doesn’t so much as twitch, of course. Which is amazing in itself, considering how he’s sleeping standing up, his head bowed and his arms crossed.

Frown deepening, Xenolith calls out to him again. Firmer, this time.

And still, the king doesn’t stir.

His attempts do catch Flonne’s attention, however, as she enters the hall with a skip in her step.

“Oh!” she says, rushing over to his side with enviable energy. “Oh dear. He’s sleeping like this again. That won’t do. Hello, Xenolith. Do you have something to say to Laharl?”

Would asking him to please sleep in his own room instead of risking falling flat on his face in the middle of a hallway count as something?

Flonne apparently thinks so, too, because, to Xenolith’s horror, she grabs Laharl’s shoulders and shakes him awake.

“Who dares awaken me, the great Laharl?” their small king challenges, and it would have certainly sounded menacing, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s evidently still groggy.

“Laharl,” Flonne says, pouting, “what did I say about sleeping while standing up? Look, Xenolith’s worried, too!”

“Neither of you is the boss of me,” he huffs, rubbing sleep away from his eyes.

“Even so,” Flonne says, letting go. “What if someone else found you and decided to draw on your face?”

That’s…not really the problem they should be discussing, is it?

“The only ones here are you and Xenolith,” their king says either way, “and I doubt Xenolith would. You wanna tell me something, Flonne?”

“I wouldn’t do something like that, you silly.”

“Don’t lie! You and Etna did before!”

Curiously, despite his earlier worries, the makings of a smile tug at Xenolith’s lips as he watches on, and he may have let it have its way, if their Overlord didn’t turn his attention on him.

“Why’re you even making a fuss about me sleeping wherever anyway? It’s because you’re so picky that you look like you don’t get much sleep all the time.”

Xenolith blinks. “No, that’s not…. I’m not….”

“It’s not a matter of being picky, Laharl,” Flonne says, frowning. “Some people just have a hard time going to sleep in general.” To Xenolith, she offers a smile. “Tea might help. Oh, or anything else that’s warm, like hot milk or hot chocolate. But not coffee! Coffee will keep you awake. That’s no good.”

“What, you don’t sleep as soon as you lie down?” their king asks.

“I’m afraid I can’t,” Xenolith admits. He often finds himself staring at the ceiling for an hour, maybe more, and it does tend to be a source of frustration.

“Blankets!” Flonne says, clapping her hands. “Do you want more blankets? Maybe you can try to sleep with your lights off, too? That helps some people.”

“Who the hell sleeps with their lights on?”

“Laharl, shush. Some people are scared of the dark, or get nightmares, remember? And we’re trying to help Xenolith, so help me think. Hmm, what else?”

“I’ll be all right,” Xenolith says, because this has never been a part of the plan, but his words are ignored as their king pipes up.

“Count Prinnies in your head or something,” he says, shrugging.

A hand over her mouth, Flonne gasps. “You do that?”

“Don’t really need to,” he says. “But I heard it could work.”

“Hmm. I can’t think of anything else. But don’t you worry, Xenolith!” Flonne says, beaming a smile so bright that Xenolith almost looks away. “If I find more ways to help, I’ll tell you right away!”

Xenolith offers her smile of his own. Not nearly as bright, but he means it either way. “You don’t have to, but thank you.”

Satisfied, Flonne nods.

Their small king, in contrast, just yawns. “If we’re done here, I’m going back to sleep.”

Pursing his lips, Xenolith slips his hands into his coat’s pockets. “Please do so in your bed.” Their king raises an eyebrow at that, so he adds, “You might get hurt otherwise.”

Contrary to the protest he’s been preparing himself for, their king just stares, long and hard. “You worry too much about others, you know that?” he finally says, but there’s no bite to his voice. Not so much as a hint. It comes out calmly, much to his surprise.

“Not that it’s unreasonable,” Flonne amends.

“Maybe not,” their king says. “But try looking after yourself first once in a while or something.”

Flonne nods, a gentle smile on her face. “That would be nice, yes.”

This is far from what he’s expected, when he first called out to their king that day. But, curiously enough, it’s not unwelcome. Not really. And Xenolith finds himself relaxing. “I’ll try, Your Majesty,” he says, smiling and bowing his head. “Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> I like the thought that Xenolith’s one of the few sane demons in the castle thanks to his big brother instincts.
> 
> This could very well be set before [Dreaming Daylilies](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4763225).
> 
> For more ways to find me, [here's my Carrd](https://artwaltzed.carrd.co/).


End file.
